CPR
by Falling Stars Of Silver
Summary: England plans a trip to the beach with America and what's-his-face. It's going well...until America "drowns", anyway. USUK


England jumped out of the gray van, squinting so the sun wouldn't hurt his eyes. He made his way to the beach, looking back once or twice to make sure America and what's-his-face (Cambodia? Cameroon?) were following.

"Iggy! Hey, Iggy! Bet I can build a bigger sandcastle than you!" America called happily. England rolled his eyes.

"I'm not building a sandcastle with you. I'm a thousand, not five. And don't call me Iggy, wanker."

The sand burned beneath his feet, making him grimace, but he didn't really feel like swimming. He set he union jack towel down, and the other one settled next to him, while America dashed ahead and dove into the ocean. He gazed at the waves, which were a beautiful blue-green, content with the quiet.

"It's a nice day, eh?" The other commented. England only nodded. He was glad that he had scheduled the trip for today. It wasn't crowded at all, with only a few other people. _And it doesn't hurt that I get to see America wearing nothing but swim trunks._ He blushed, banishing the thought from his mind. He looked at the other nation.

"You look a lot like America." The other sighed unhappily, as if depressed by his revelation.

"Yeah...unfortunately. We're brothers...you sort of helped raise me...remember?" He didn't, but nodded anyway, not wanting to be rude. Honestly, though, the resemblance to America was uncanny. The two looked exactly alike, except this one had longer, wavier hair, his eyes were violet instead of blue, and he was hold a polar bear plushie. Wait, the plushie just blinked...okay, apparently he was holding a _real_ polar bear. England tried not to be freaked out by the realization.

His stomach grumbled slightly, and he wondered why he didn't eat something before he left. Maybe America had something in the car. No, even if he did have something, it would probably be something disgusting, like a hamburger.

Speaking of which...he scanned the ocean, looking for the rambunctious nation. He found him, nothing but a little blonde dot among the waves. He was pretty far out. Suddenly, the dot began to flail dramatically, and although he was far away, a garbled cry of 'help' could just barely be heard. The nation beside him gasped.

"I think he's drowning!" England scoffed at the idea. He was probably faking it, just messing around. So why was he getting up? Before he even knew that he was doing, he was in the water, pleasantly cold compared to the hot land, but he barely registered the temperature change. The idiot...he should have known better than to go out that far! What would happen to the world if he drowned? _What would happen to me?_ He growled, annoyed by such thoughts penetrating his mind. He didn't like America like that...right? _Right? _

He sliced through the water with unnatural speed, and fear shot through him when he realized that he couldn't see America. Without hesitation, he dove under the water. It was blurry, and his eyes stung ever so slightly, but he had to find America. He looked frantically until he finally found a dark mass that was sinking deeper and deeper. America. He grabbed the unconscious man's arm, pulled him to the surface, and he swam for shore. He dragged America onto the hot sand and leaned over him. It was then that he realized what would have to be done. His face turned ghostly white before switching to a deep red that would put one of Spain's prized tomatoes to shame. His shoulders spiked up in terror, and he looked to what's-his-face helplessly.

"Do you know mouth-to-mouth?" He asked hopefully. The other appeared to hesitate for a moment before shaking his head.

"Sorry, but it looks like you'll have to do it." England groaned and bent down, locking his lips with the other country, blowing oxygen into his lungs. America's lips were very soft, unsurprisingly. He was blushing. Why was he blushing? This was serious! It's not like he_ wanted _to do this! A tiny voice in the back of his head said otherwise, but he pushed it away as always and backed up slightly, taking another deep breath and repeating the process. Finally, he felt the other coming to. Just as he was about to back away once more, he felts arms hook around his waist and force him close. His brain short circuited, but he was vaguely aware that America was kissing him. And he was kissing America. Eventually, the other's grip loosened, and England pulled away, blushing fiercely.

"I...I...uh..." He was currently unable to form coherent sentences. He kissed back. Did that mean he liked America? He suddenly realized that the yearning he felt for America was much more than a longing to be brothers again. No, he didn't_ like_ America. He _loved_ America. But he knew he wouldn't be able to say that. So he did the next best thing. He grabbed America and crushed his lips against the other's. This one lasted much longer. He tasted like hamburgers, something that he knew should have disgusted him. But on America's lips, they didn't taste so bad. The two parted at the same time, and America smirked.

"I'm a good actor, huh?" England raised one enormous eyebrow.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He inquired. America's grin widened.

"I wasn't really drowning."

* * *

"After England stopped yelling, we decided to head back home. I knew he loved me back! Your plan totally worked! Thanks for helping me out with that idea. You shoulda been there, bro."

"I know, America. I _was_ there."

"Really? Aww, I didn't see you...you totally should have told me, we could have hung out!"

"I came with you, remember?"  
"Really?"  
"Ugh...just forget it."

* * *

**A/N: Argh, it sucks. ;A; Oh well. This was for a friend of mine, who wouldn't shut the heck up about it until I wrote it for her. THIS IS FOR YOU, R. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY. Although I like the idea and all, I can't write to save my life. Thus, this was created. Reviews are love! **


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